frocelts used to be the Afro Celtic Sound System. I guess they thought the "sound system" label made them sound too much like a trance act. Of course, to some extent, the group always has been a dance group, its music filled with programmable beats and ambient washes. The difference, however, is that the Afrocelts flesh out the dance grooves with traditional African and Celtic instruments and sentiments. Simon Emmerson, the group's founder, mixes in tin whistles, accordions, nyatiti, harps, talking drums and the occasional Irish language vocals to create a kind of world music fusion for which Real World is well known. However, this world music is closer in spirit to Peter Gabriel's music than, say, Sevara Nazarkhan's. That is, this music is pop tinged with traditional folk sounds, rather than traditional folk music stuffed into a pop formula.

The real saving grace of Afrocelts, however, is the simple fact that they have chosen to borrow the sounds and instruments of the two musical styles from which most modern pop music originated. We all know that African music led to the blues, rock and roll, jazz, hip-hop, reggae, and so on. But Celtic music was just as essential. It led not only to country and western music, but it also helped provide a fundamental structure and methodology for blues, rock, and other pop styles. Pushing these two musical cultures together is entirely appropriate. It also sounds pretty cool, with the tin whistles and the talking drums balancing together perfectly.

That being said, most Afro Celts Sound System albums always left something to be desired. For one thing, they used a lot of programmed beats and sampled instruments, rather than live recordings of beats and whistles. For another, frequent guest contributions by Sinead O'Conner and Peter Gabriel made the albums seem less like complete wholes and more like fragmented compilations. Seed is different. It's still the same pattern—ambient and pop songs utilizing African and Celtic instrumentation—but the beats and instrumentation are organic, not programmed. This means that the musical traditions that this group is supposed to be celebrating actually come to life here. Take "Ayub's Song / As You Were," a work that is split right down the middle. The first part is African, with talking drums and at least one African language sung (though there is a hint, here and there, of Celtic whistles and fiddles). The other part is all Celtic, complete with a jig that even The Dubliners would appreciate (though I distinctly hear the roar of a lion at the end, which I suppose suggests Africa, though maybe it's just the London Zoo). A song like this isn't really a fusion of these two traditions; rather, it's an acknowledgement of their comparative worth. However, this song is a bit unusual, as it's entirely acoustic. Most of the other tracks take these traditional instruments and place them within a decidedly dance framework, as on the album's centerpiece, "Rise Above It," a ten minute-long trek through ambient washes, dance beats, African drums, accordions, bagpipes, harps, and very catchy pop grooves.

This isn't the world's greatest album. Some of the ambient/harp stuff gets a bit dull after a while, but it's still very enjoyable work. And, what's more, I truly appreciate both the work and the sentiments that shaped it. Most of all, I appreciate the group's desire to reimagine traditional music not as a tradition (something static, unable to be altered) but as a legacy: something that we have inherited from the past and now must shape into our own image. Listened to from this perspective, Seed is a great reminder that the music of the past—from all continents and cultures—is ours both to celebrate and to communicate.